


A Day Like Any Other

by furihatachlookie



Series: Heterochromatic Soulmates [2]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-03-29 13:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3897730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furihatachlookie/pseuds/furihatachlookie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They reminded Aomine of how the sky looked before the horizon. Brimming with warm light. Contained, but blinding all the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You can just disregard the odd geography. Long story short, Kanagawa and Tokyo are military districts in Japan that are sworn enemies in some modern time period. Eh.

This was getting boring.

The muffler Aomine was wearing was stifling. He shook it off his face, leaving it to rest at his neck. Wintry wind hit his flushed cheeks.

He breathed out a sigh, fogging up the scope with clouds of steam. He'd thought volunteering for directly defending the Tokyo-Kanagawa border would be more challenging than this.

Aomine took his gloved hand away from the barrel of the sniper rifle to wipe away the steam gathering on the lens of his sights.

"Are the targets in sight?" Aomine asked, returning his hand back to its place on the gun and looking over his shoulder to Imayoshi.

His partner lowered his binoculars to stare at him. "If they were, I would've told you to take the shot already." And with that, returned them back to his face.

Very helpful.

"Tch, then flush them out. I've been getting nothing for the last ten minutes." Aomine peered through the magnified lens again with his amber eye, grimacing when flakes of snow blocked his sight. They should really design M24s with protective covers, he thought as he reached forward with his sleeve to swipe away the gathering ice. What he wouldn't give for an SNS too. Infrared sights are always in demand.

Higher-ups expect them to use their equipment wisely; that didn't mean the same as forcing them to use firearms that have ceased production and are only delivered in small numbers every other month.

It was just a day like any other, he supposed.

Aomine didn't look away from his scope when he heard the sound of static that came with the high altitude as Imayoshi relayed the message to Susa's squad to move in. It was like fishing, not that Aomine was a fan of fishing. He was talking more about the concept.

To catch the fish, first it has to take the bait. And most times, that took time.

Unfortunately, Aomine didn't find himself to be a very patient person.

Aomine's arms were burning with the exertion of holding a still position and keeping the rifle in his hands steady as he kept his eyes trained on the thin veil of greenery and tree trunks, but didn't voice it. Aomine found comfort in the familiar weight of the cold metal turned warm under his fingertips, and flexed his fingers curled around the trigger to fight off the tingling in his hands.

"Squad 2, in position. Squad 1?" Susa's voice crackled through the speaker.

They were Squad 1. Imayoshi, binoculars in hand, looked to him. Aomine fixed his sights slightly to reduce the range, and sent him a thumbs up.

Pressing down on the talk button, Imayoshi confirmed their location. "Squad 2 is in position."

"Roger that. Squad 1, engaging."

Aomine fell quiet, listening for the signal.

The echo of gunshots rang out, three consecutive fires, and as expected, there was a flicker of movement in the leaves. Aomine sent the first bullet through the soldier's head the moment he came into view from behind the tree. The body fell to the ground.

More sounds of gunshots erupted on the field, and the escapees appeared out of hiding, backing up to their own border whilst aiming their fire towards Susa's men that were steadily closing in, guns raised. They were on the move.

Seeing he had hit his mark, it was a simple act to unlock the bolt, eject the used cartridge, let the next bullet fall in place, and release the bolt to lock it again before he took out the next guy ten meters away from the fallen body with a bullet to the chest, all within the span of a few seconds; then it was unlock, eject, and lock again. Unlock, eject, lock. Rinse, and repeat.

Susa's team flushed the rest of them out of the woods and into a bushy clearing. With little cover, they were dropping like flies.

Some feet away, a bullet ricocheted off the cliff edge he and Imayoshi were perched on.

Aomine paused in his shooting, hearing a few more bounce off the rocks, shy of hitting its target that was undoubtedly meant to be him. "Imayoshi, they have a sniper." He called, pressing on the trigger only to find it blank. Aomine looked down to find the magazine empty. "Damn it..."

He reached for a spare, unlocking the catch to release the used cartridge and lock in a new one. "I'm gonna need a target." A stray bullet clipped the end of his rifle. The other sniper seemed to be at a disadvantage aiming from a lower ground. That must be why his accuracy was a few hairs off.

"He's twelve meters to your left, behind that large bush." Imayoshi pinpointed his location.

After resetting the bolt and repositioning his gun correctly, Aomine shifted his body a little to the left. Squinting into the scope, he caught the glint of metal peeking out between the leaves and pulled the trigger.

It was a hit. Two soldiers closed in and pulled the struggling man out from hiding, the trail of blood dripping from his arm dirtying the white snow, visible even when Aomine unfocused the range of his sights and pulled away. He looked to Imayoshi for further direction.

Feeling Aomine's gaze trailed on him, Imayoshi spoke. "And that's the last of them, for now." He folded up the thin pair of binoculars and pocketed it. Aomine let his arms relax, grimacing when a tingling sensations ran down his arms from the blood rushing back to his numb fingertips.

"We'll take that one for questioning. That wasn't so hard now, was it?" Imayoshi asked, catching the folded bipod unit Aomine tossed to him and placing it in their pack.

Once reattaching the sling swivel and looping the carrying strap around his neck, trying hard not to fumble with fingers that felt like they were made of butter, Aomine grunted in response, rising up to sling his sniper rifle over his shoulder and proceeding to get the blood flowing back to his legs. "It could be easier." He admitted with a sigh.

"Well," Imayoshi sheathed his gun that he had yet to fire once today, thanks to Aomine, "now that that's down and over with, I got a girl to go home to now. So let's get going." He put on the worn pair of glasses that lay folded on top of the rocks where he'd set them earlier. Aomine reached his hands up to the sky and stretched, the nicks in his back popping with satisfying cracks from static joints pulled loose.

"They shipping you back home already?" Aomine let his arms fall back to his sides. Had it already been six months?

You would think that spending months stationed at Kanagawa to keep anyone from leaving would be tedious work. Instead, six months felt like nothing.

"Yeah. Time sure flies when you're having fun, huh." Imayoshi said jokingly. The words were dripping with sarcasm. Or were they? Either way, Aomine had to agree with him on that one.

"Maybe while you're back home, tell them to send us guns that _aren't_ outdated?" Aomine asked. A particularly strong gust of wind had him throwing his hood on and slipping the gray muffler over the lower half of his face.

"They'll only send us ones that are actually manufactured for us," Imayoshi shouldered the backpack filled with some provisions and extra ammo, "so for the millionth time, that means no ESRs."

"It was worth a try." Aomine shrugged, picking the spare magazines up off the ground and taking a moment to glance over the edge.

A mass of treetops lacking the brightening beams of the sunset warming their backs sat at the foot of the cliff, too shrouded by darkness to be made out individually. You would have to be lucky to survive the fall, and with winter upon them, even if you did, you wouldn't live long enough in the cold to find shelter.

It was advised for people with his profession to overcome their fear of heights; and yet, peering over the cliff side still gave Aomine a slight vertigo. If sitting for hours wasn't such an issue for him, the height certainly would be.

The thought wasn't very reassuring.

"I hope you won't be missing me too much while I'm gone." Imayoshi said cockily, hands resting on his hips.

"I won't." Aomine stepped away from the edge. "You and your attitude both fucking stink." He replied flatly, throwing the unused cartridges to his partner.

How odd it was to miss the Imayoshi that disappeared with the once almond-colored left eye, if this even counted as a change. He still found it difficult to get a grasp on his personality.

However, while this perky, and in some ways, less serious Imayoshi was hard to get used to, Aomine was still at least a tad grateful to have a partner that was still serious enough to not get them killed.

Imayoshi caught the mags, placing a hand over where his heart _would've_ been. "So harsh." But Aomine could see the amused light that shone in Imayoshi's annoying beady eyes that revealed themselves behind thick-rimmed glasses for once. "I'm not that bad, am I?"

Aomine takes back what he said. He was still a cocky bastard.

He brushed past Imayoshi and began making his way down the summit to camp a good two kilometers away. "Trust me, you are. Now let's get going, my ass is freezing."

\-----

When Aomine came to, black cloth was tied over his eyes, crippling him of his vision.

He was kneeling on cold ground, and judging by the immobile position his arms were in behind his back, he had no use of his arms right now. Well, of the arms that he _could_ use.

His left arm ached, the dull throb signaling an untreated injury on his person. Aomine doubted he could bend it if he tried.

Aomine forced his body to relax. Straining his ears, he could hear very little over his own labored breathing. Where was he?

Somewhere off to the left, a door swung open, and heavy footsteps approached him. Metal chair legs screeched against the concrete, grating Aomine's ears enough to make him wince.

The person plopped themselves down in the chair, letting out a yawn. "Glad to see that you made it back to the world of the living. I had to put off my departure when they told me you were awake." Aomine perked at the familiar voice.

"We're just going to ask a few questions, just to keep it short and sweet for you." He went on. Aomine almost snorted. Like he could leave after. "If you answer correctly, we might just not kill you."

The chair creaked with a shift of weight. "So, what were you trying to achieve in escaping?"

What was he even talking about? Aomine couldn't even remember how he got here. The last thing he remembers is heading back to his bunk for the night.

Aomine found the words flowing out of his mouth before he could even get a grasp of the situation, "What do _you_ think?" only to frown. The tone of his voice was oddly snide. He certainly wouldn't be talking like that if he was in this predicament.

His question was ignored. "Were you the one in charge of those men?"

When Aomine didn't answer, another question took place of the silence. "Do you think losing your whole squad was worth that little escapade? Not that they got very far to begin with. They couldn't even make it back with their tails between their legs."

That struck a nerve. "I don't have to answer to you." And again came the snappy remark. Something was off. They didn't feel like his own words.

A fist cracked against his cheek, whipping his head to the side hard enough to be felt in his teeth. Aomine ground his teeth, a string of profanities stopping short of slipping out. Imayoshi curled his fingers around his chin and turned Aomine's head back forward.

Aomine breathed shakily through his nose to keep from retaliating. "I don't think you're in a position to talk to me like that." Imayoshi drawled, before releasing him. Aomine tested his jaw, tasting copper on his tongue. He hadn't heard him approach.

"I'm not in the mood for playing around, so I'd advise you think harder on your next answer this time," he advised, no longer sounding amused by his lack of interaction, "or I won't hesitate next time."

"I'm just a soldier." Aomine replied through clenched teeth. He had one hell of a punch too.

"That doesn't mean you don't know something. Nobody would aim so high up unless they had a target to aim for." Rubber squeaked when Imayoshi bent down to his level. "How did you know where our snipers were?"

Aomine stayed silent.

A few minutes went by before a new voice introduced itself into the conversation. "Imayoshi, he isn't gonna budge." Aomine turned to where he assumed the newcomer was standing. He thought it was only Imayoshi in the room. "Marshal said that if he didn't cooperate, to just get rid of him." Susa reminded him, twirling something in his hands. Whatever it was he was fiddling with was made of metal.

Imayoshi seemed to think it over for a little, before sighing and straightening again. "You're right. Hey, hand it over."

He caught the metal contraption Susa tossed to him. The blindfold was pulled off, and Aomine had to squint as his eyes strained to adjust to the light shining brightly overhead. Something yellow fell into his eyes, but a handgun was aimed at him before he could focus in on it.

Aomine lifted his gaze to meet the barrel of a gun and Imayoshi's smiling face. "It seems you've answered incorrectly." He nodded to someone behind him, handing the blindfold to an outstretched arm. "Take him away."

He was roughly yanked to his feet, and black spots flickered in his vision as his arm was twisted back painfully within the restraints. His legs nearly gave out from under him, and Aomine was caught by two pairs of hands before he fell into a pool of his own blood, a pool that had formed from his open wound.

He was steered away to the doorway by the two soldiers at his back. However, the sight of blood mixed in with snow long since melted was imprinted in his mind. How long had he been kneeling there, bleeding out—

Aomine was pulled out of his dreams when a hand on his shoulder shook him awake.

His eyes shot open. Everything was pitch black. Feeling a grip on his arm chillingly similar to the one he'd felt seconds ago, and sensing his arms free of their restraints, he shot up from his position lying down, pulling out the knife he always kept under his pillow by instinct.

"Aomine—" Sakurai choked on the rest of his name when his wrist was caught and he felt a knife pressed to his jugular. "—san."

Aomine remained sitting up, knife digging into the skin of Sakurai's throat and hand twisting Sakurai's around enough to make him wince and fall to a knee. That is, until his vision cleared.

Aomine frowned. "Ryou?" His own voice was thick with sleep and something else he wouldn't want to point out. He swallowed the ball in his throat, just now aware of how heavily he was breathing.

Blinking a few times to clear the fog the nightmare left on his thoughts, Aomine dropped the knife, hearing it clatter to the floor along with Sakurai, finally recalling where he was.

He looked around. The only source of light was coming from the half-open flap at the far end of the tent, three bunks over. All the bunks were empty. Most of them were left in the state they'd been exited. Others, like Sakurai's, which was beside his own, were neatly made. Speaking of Sakurai...

The shorter brunet was picking himself up off the floor he'd stumbled back onto, shaken from Aomine's sudden and violent reaction. "A-Aomine-san, are you okay?" He asked, voice cracking as it left his lips.

How he could still worry more about Aomine rather than himself left Aomine feeling guilty. He ran a hand over his face, pulling it back to find it slick with sweat.

So it really was a dream. He had to suppress a shiver at the prickling numbness he could still feel lingering on his skin, along his arm. Whatever it was Aomine had dreamt about felt almost too real to just be something his mind conjured up.

He let the hand drop back on the sheets. "... I think so."

"Was it another nightmare?" He sounded closer. Aomine looked up from his hands to find Sakurai standing at the side of his bed, gingerly holding the pocket knife that he'd dropped, brown and pale copper observing him worriedly.

For a moment, it wasn't Sakurai's face he saw. Imayoshi's face and a gun instead of a knife in hand flashed before his eyes for a split second, and the disturbing similarity left Aomine with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

It didn't feel like any other dream he had these days. It wasn't like the deafening explosions and blurred images he failed to wipe from his mind. It wasn't like the nightmares that woke him up with a sore throat and hands twitching for the familiar and addictive feel of a trigger.

That wasn't a normal nightmare.

Despite himself, Aomine strained his lips into a reassuring smile, taking the knife. "Don't worry about it." The smile felt fake, and it must've looked more like a pained grimace, but if Sakurai noticed, he didn't say anything, just smiling back weakly.

"S—Sorry if I startled you, but they're holding the execution right now." His brown-haired teammate fidgeting, eyes alternating between Aomine and the ground, "Imayoshi-san has already left, but I was going to ask you if you'd like to... uh..."

"Watch it?" Aomine finished his sentence. Executions weren't common in camp anymore, but it's not like it never happened. "Might as well. It's not like I can get any more sleep anyway."

Sakurai stepped back to give Aomine room to get out of bed. After folding the small knife and placing it back in its usual place under his pillow, he threw his legs over the side and leaned down to slip on his boots before standing up and putting on the wrinkled jacket he'd haphazardly thrown on the foot of his bed the night before.

It was black, as was the rest of his uniform, instead of green, something the Marshal made a requirement for snipers only. All the other districts seemed to be doing the same, thinking back to the sniper that had been taken prisoner yesterday.

A hand messily run through his hair was all he did to check out the slight bed head he'd probably developed during the night. Sakurai didn't mention his hair, so it must be good enough.

Sakurai was waiting for him at the exit. He held the flap of the tent open so Aomine could step through first. The sun was hanging low in the east, just barely peeking through the snow-covered trees enough that Aomine still had to shield his mismatched eyes against its rays.

It'd ceased snowing overnight, but clouds still littered the sky. It wouldn't be long before it snowed again.

Aomine followed Sakurai to the stage that wasn't far off—he could see it behind the first tent to the right—keeping at a light jog until they reached the outskirts of the crowd gathered around to watch. It was small enough that Aomine, a head taller than nearly half the men, could clearly see the prisoner.

The snow was dyed a pale red where he was kneeling. His cap was gone, revealing golden locks. The bullet wound on his arm seemed to have yet to cease bleeding. He must've struck through some vital arteries with that blind shot. The nerves there must be too damaged to heal.

It appears they'd arrived just in time. The squad commander standing beside him on the elevated platform removed the blindfold. "This man has been accused of mutiny and cowardice by judgement of our senior officers." He said to the crowd, "and is subject to execution by firing squad."

"Are people under the Marshal really allowed to decide someone's execution?" Sakurai asked, confused at the commander's statement.

"It's actually the prisoner's choice. As long as it's not one of our own, it's fi..." From his angle, eyes opened to reveal a yellow orb. The words faded from Aomine's lips.

The blond kept his face turned to the ground even as the man left his side to join the men at the other end of the stage, molten yellow barely visible behind half-lidded eyes and dirty locks. Up close, he didn't really look of Kanagawan descent. A transfer from another district, perhaps?

"Make ready!"

The soldiers fell into step, standing at attention before drawing their guns from their backs.

Sakurai looked up at him. "Aomine-san?"

Aomine barely heard him. Blinking slowly, the prisoner lifted his eyes, turning them to the crowd. Blue appeared beside gold, glowing in contrast to fair skin.

Aomine inhaled sharply, his heartbeat suddenly sounding much louder than a few seconds ago. Scanning the faces slowly, they stopped when they met Aomine's.

Haunting amber and navy blue eyes widened and clashed with his own through a tousled blond fringe.

_The same fringe that had fallen into his eyes in his dream._

The next time the man on the stage blinked, Aomine saw the left eye that belonged to him become yellow, matching with the one on the right.

The sensation of his own eye changing was like taking in a breath of fresh air, except it stung from the morning cold and was cut off mid-breath by the merciless grip fear took on his throat when the soldiers of the firing squad lifted their rifles.

"Aim!"

The man must have felt it too. Golden eyes that could rival the sun itself brightened for a single moment, no longer a dull bisque. Now they reminded Aomine of how the sky looked before the sun broke the horizon. Brimming with warm light. Contained, but blinding all the same.

Then, he smiled.

The soldiers stilled, ready to fire.

And it felt as if Aomine's heart stopped.

"Stop!"

As Aomine shouted that single word, he forced his legs to move, ignoring those that turned to him and gave him dirty looks when he shoved them out of the way as he ran to his soulmate. _Please..._

None of the officers heard him, already training their sights on the target placed on the blond's chest.

He opened his mouth to shout again, and could've sworn he heard the click of metal as the soldiers placed their fingers on the trigger. He was so _close_...

_He was right there..._

Aomine's commander let his arm drop.

_"Wait!"_

There was no call to warn him just how quickly he was about to lose the light that came with that smile.

The gunshots drowned out the echo of his cry.

The smile was there even when it became stained by blood. Even when red soaked the black material of his shirt as he fell to the floor, unmoving. The snow under him turned from pink to red.

Aomine could only stare at the motionless body before searing pain blossomed in his left eye, and he moved to clutch at his face.

It was like someone was twisting a white-hot knife in his socket. Funny how it felt like there was one piercing the left side of his chest where his heart lay too.

He fell to his knees. Quick footsteps approached him. "Aomine-san!?" Sakurai's worried voice accompanied them.

Broken whispers too soft to make out broke out in the crowd. Aomine didn't care that everyone was looking at him now that the _main event_ was over. Those that were veterans were looking on in understanding. Sakurai didn't seem to get the situation.

He heard someone whisper something to Sakurai, loud enough to be heard over all the others.

_He was..._

"—his soulmate."

As quickly as it had come, the pain faded. Just as that man drew his final breath.

Tears leaked from Aomine's eyes, no longer because of the pain. He grit his teeth, feeling a sob trying to claw its way up his throat. It was terribly familiar.

Aomine pressed his forehead into the cool soil, fingers curling into fists. But he kept a hand on his face. He didn't need a mirror to look into to know that the gold eye was once again here to stay. Permanently.

He released a shout of frustration into the earth.

Just a day like any other, huh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At 18, Kise was planning to enlist into Tokyo, but got transferred to Kanagawa instead. 
> 
> btw this is the same Kise from Eye to Eye (that same cute little kid that accidentally set his kindergarten teacher up with his soulmate, now KIA at such a young age ahaha kill me) 
> 
> Fun Fact: Imayoshi's soulmate is some girl he met during college before joining the army. Sakurai's soulmate is Wakamatsu who he has yet to meet in this universe.
> 
> Fun Fact #2: When your soulmate dies, you feel excruciating pain in your left eye (the eye that was once the color of your soulmate's) and it turns back to their color. (So Aomine's eye only changed blue for a few moments before it went back to yellow, as a reminder of Kise haHA)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prequel to Chapter 1 from Kise's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prequels, more like  
> just fuck me up
> 
> (school and finals are over with so you know what that means)

_"Kise-kun?"_

_Kise tore his attention away from the numerous girls crowding him to spot the blue-haired male standing in the doorway. He immediately brightened, smiling at his former teacher. He would've waved, had his arms not been occupied by tiny hands pulling him in all directions. "Ah, Kurokocchi!"_

_Kuroko expressed some surprise, but it was soon easily masked as he called out to his students. "Kids, you're crowding Kise-kun. Come on inside so we can all wish him happy birthday together as a class."_

_"Yes, sensei!" The kids chimed as one, most of them relinquishing their hold on the blond teen and running up to meet their teacher at the door. A few lagged behind, following Kise as he, too, made his way over to the classroom._

_One girl, Mia, whose curly hair was tied by a bright pink hair tie to keep out of her face, glanced up at the duffel bag Kise was carrying. "What's that for, Kise-nii?"_

_Her friend, if Kise could recall her name as being Saiko, also jumped into the conversation. "Are you going somewhere?"_

_Kise laughed sheepishly, fingering the velcro strap. "Yeah, something like that."_

_"Will it be like one of your trips for your job again?"_

_Kise shook his head. "Not really. I'll be gone a little longer this time."_

_The two girls pouted in unison, and he smiled at them in return, ruffling their hair in apology. "There's no need to worry though! I'll make sure to visit as soon as I come back. Now come on, I heard that Kurokocchi has cake for everyone!"_

~ 

_"So you're really going?" Kuroko asked, that always steady tone of his apparent as he waved goodbye to the last of his students._

_Kise joined him at the door, hands in his pockets. "Yeah." He smiled and lifted a hand to wave at the kids looking back and spotting him as they exited through the school gates. "This'll be my last chance to join, or else I'll have to wait until winter. Again."_

_"It couldn't be helped. You still had the rest of your third year to worry about." Kuroko didn't move, keeping his eyes on the gates the kids and their parents had disappeared through._

_"Well, at least now I don't have to worry about college for a while." Kise joked as a way to lighten the mood._

_It worked, sort of. A smile appeared on Kuroko's face as he spoke again. "You always tried to find a way to avoid schoolwork. I hope you don't slack off there too. I won't be there to pull you out of trouble."_

_"Is Kurokocchi actually worrying about me?" Kise asked in a joking matter. "Besides, that was nearly a decade ago."_

_"And yet I still remember you coming to me complaining about your 29 in mathematics a few weeks ago." Kuroko retorted, ignoring his primary question and finally turning his eyes to him. "And must you still include the -cchi? We're hardly friends."_

_Kuroko's hint of a smile said otherwise, but Kise, for both their sake, played along, pouting. "How mean! Well, I_ could _call you Kuroko-sensei."_

_The two locked eyes, a split-second clash between navy blue and gold and cerulean, before they both shook their heads, Kise trying and failing to hold back his laughter, and Kuroko having an expression akin to a person that had just sniffed something rancid as they said at the same time, "Weird."_

_Kise rested his head on the doorframe, sighing. "Man, I'm gonna miss this." He looked up to the numerous drawings dangling from the ceiling, many of them missing from kids taking them home to show to their parents. Soon they'd all be gone, to prepare for the new year. Too bad he wasn't going to be there to see it. This would be the first time in years._

_The desk in the corner of the room belonging to his blue-haired senior was in a similar state, but there was a corner of the wood, clear of any mess, taken up by a collage of picture frames—there was only a small number, about four or five, but enough to be considered a lot in Kuroko's case—both of students and friends. And of course Akashi. Last update he got of the redhead was that he'd taken his father's position as head chief._

_It was coupled with the half-eaten vanilla cake, courtesy of Murasakibara, whose pastry shop was on the other side of Tokyo. The candles were still planted in what remained of the dessert, an hour cold._

_Kuroko nodded in agreement, looking down at his hands. "As will I."_

_Kise watched him tuck his hands into the pockets of his apron out of the corner of his eye, but made no move to mention the way they shook as they disappeared into paint-stained folds. Kuroko made no move to hide the worry that laced his words. Five years was a long time for anyone._

_"Come back safe, Kise-kun."_

_Kise turned away, heading back in to grab his bag, but not before offering the older male a smile. "You got it."_

The bus jerked, waking Kise from his dream. 

"Alright, everybody here for the enrollments, get going! I don't have all day!" The driver yelled as the blond rubbed at his eyes, willing away the last traces of the reminiscent dream from behind his eyelids. There he was being all corny again. 

Kise rose from his seat along with all the other young (and old) applicants, reaching up to the metal shelf for his bag. 

He felt for the red ribbon tied to the strap, a late gift the kids had gotten from the box that contained his cake. It was small, but he'd treasure it. 

"You leaving or what?" 

He was the last one on the bus, and the driver was starting to give him some dirty looks. Shouldering the bag, Kise grabbed the wrinkled form sitting on his seat, running to the sliding doors of the bus. "Yeah yeah, I'm coming!"

Stepping through the near-invisible cloud of smog the bus emitted, Kise hopped off the metal tin can excuse of a bus, looking around at the crowds of people swarming the white tents, already in line to register. Waving off the stink of diesel, Kise made for the one with a banner displaying the word "Tokyo" in large print, scanning his application form one last time. 

His name, date of birth, weight, height, and blood type were written in his neatest kanji, along with the regulated shots and medical info he would need in fine print, located near the bottom. Who knew so many things were needed just to fill out an application.

It certainly seemed like enough to cover six months of training and five and a half years of service worth of health. That undoubtedly meant a postponing of any type of romantic relationship, which included finding his soulmate. 

The wrinkled sheet once again crumpled and slipped from his hands as he bumped into someone, forcing him to stumble back a few steps. 

"Ah, sorry." Kise muttered, bending down to retrieve his paper. 

"Don't worry about it." The man—judging from the low pitch of his voice—in front of him said.

However, he was gone by the time Kise had stood back up again, not even bothering to stick around to see if he was okay. 

The blond teen looked around, searching for the head of dark hair he'd glimpsed in his peripheral upon colliding with him.

The guy was already far away by the time Kise spotted him, a bright pink slip in his hands. 

He was only able to keep his eyes on him for a few short moments before the crowd swallowed him up. He hitched the strap of the duffle higher. Blond brows furrowed, but Kise shook it off, doing the same with the discarded paper to make sure it was at least presentable enough to hand in by the time he was next in line. 

The lady at the front smiled at him, peering at his information through round spectacles. One of the workers on the opposite side of the table whispered in her ear, and the smile turned apologetic as she met his eyes. "I'm sorry, but we just reached the capacity for Tokyo applicants." 

"However, I hear that Kanagawa is still accepting." Seeing Kise visibly deflate, she pointed to the next canopy over, the name of said country printed in blue ink similar to that of the one he was at. "Actually, I can transfer you there right now." 

He looked to the near-identical set-up. It couldn't be that much different. 

Kise offered the receptionist a smile, taking back the paper. "I might as well. Thank you."

Anything for a pink slip. He wasn't going to be leaving empty-handed this time around. He wanted to leave like that blue-haired man did; with a pass out of this place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What kind of shit ending to a prequel was that. Well, at least I was able to squeeze out the second and final chapter of this.
> 
> Kise's reason for joining was to do something with his life and do something exciting??? I guess???? I feel like I made Kise seem to eager to leave. He matures tho in the duration of his service period (btw he was a few months away from finishing and going home at the point of his death, you're welcome)
> 
> I wrote it for the flashback okay


End file.
